


your touch, my comfort and my lullaby

by bobbismrses



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, i swear it's happier than it sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 10:42:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10569648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbismrses/pseuds/bobbismrses
Summary: It doesn't feel like an elephant is sitting on his chest anymore, Bobbi's touch grounding him, his little girl's kicks under his palms strengthening him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the closest thing to fluff I've ever written, I'm getting there.
> 
> Fic title taken from "Ease" by Troye Sivan.

Lance jerks awake, a croaking scream scratching his throat as he bolts upright in bed and gasps for breath. He's drenched in sweat, his shirt sticking to his chest like a fourth layer of skin and he hastily yanks it over his head, the cling of the fabric becoming suffocating.

"Bobbi," he rasps as he pats the empty space on the bed beside him, panic bursting inside his chest like a star going supernova. She's supposed to be here, his anchor, his constant, his touch to reality.

There's a hurried pitter-patter gradually getting louder and Lance flinches when Bobbi appears on the doorstep, worry etching her features and a jar of peanut butter clutched in a white-knuckle grip. She absently places it on the closest surface and walks inside.

Lance's eyes widen and he draws in a quick breath. Suddenly, the air doesn't feel so thick on his tongue anymore. He kicks the tangle of sheets off him and practically runs to her, almost tripping over his own feet. 

As soon as he's close enough, his body goes limp against her. He winds his arms around her waist as much as he can with Bobbi's rounded stomach between them and burrows his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in.

"I'm here," Bobbi says, surprised when her voice doesn't waver, as she fastens her arms around him in an attempt to shield him from his own thoughts. "I'm right here."

She hums some mindless tune, just to give him something to focus on, as she gently kneads the knots on his shoulders.

"S'that good?" she asks, ducking her head down and pressing a kiss to his shoulder, where constellations of freckles and scars meet. He makes a noise between a whine and a growl and shoves his face deeper into the hollow of her neck.

"Use your words, baby."

A deep sigh rumbles through his bones and Lance nods numbly. "Yes," he chokes out, voice a quiet rasp into the night. Something in Bobbi's chest finally loosens.

"There you go," she encourages as she smooths her hand up and down his back. She feels his lips grazing her pulse point right before he pulls back and Bobbi reaches her hand out to cup his face.

Lance leans into her touch and shifts slightly to press a fleeting kiss to her wrist, exhaling sharply through his nose as his eyelids flicker open. "Hi," Bobbi says softly, thumb swiping over his tears-stained cheek.

"Hi," he repeats, lips curling up into a smile that Bobbi knows is only meant for her sake. He looks down when he feels a nudge against his chest, the swell of Bobbi's stomach still pressed against him, and his smile widens. "What are my girls doing up so late anyway?" he asks, splaying his hands on each side of her bump.

"Someone really wanted that slice of pizza you left in the fridge," Bobbi explains, biting her lip sheepishly, and she's glad to hear the new-found steadiness in his voice.

"And what baby wants, baby gets," Lance chuckles, eyes going from Bobbi's belly, to her face, and back. It doesn't feel like an elephant is sitting on his chest anymore, Bobbi's touch grounding him, his little girl's kicks under his palms strengthening him.

"Wanna talk about it?" Bobbi tries, her hand coming up to the top of his head, fingers combing through his hair and parting the curls clumped together by sweat.

"Not really, no." She doesn't insist, doesn't push. He's grateful for that. "You should go back to sleep, I'm gonna make some coffee," Lance suggests, a carnival of gunshots still ringing in his head, and they both know sleep is no longer an option for him.

Bobbi leans forward and pecks his lips. "Coffee sounds great, let's go," she murmurs, bumping her nose against his slightly, and when he goes to protest, she silences him with another closed-mouth kiss.

 _Thank you,_ he doesn't say, but she hears it anyway.

Bobbi laces their fingers together and squeezes his hand reassuringly before leading him out of the room, down the hall, and all the way to the kitchen. Lance makes a face when the light there blinds him and he has to blink sleep away a couple of times. Bobbi lets go of his hand, looking over her shoulder and smiling warmly at him, as she walks behind the counter to start the coffee.

"Love the outfit, by the way," he grins as he snatches his hoodie off the back of a chair and slips it on, not even bothering zipping it up. Bobbi scoffs and looks down at her attire, she's wearing one of his old military shirts and a pair of fluffy rainbow socks. She rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue playfully as she closes one of the cabinets with a sway of her hips. 

Bobbi's smirk suddenly turns into a wince and she digs her nails into the small of her back as she hunches forward in pain. "Shit."

"Bob?" Lance frowns, face going slack, before rushing by her side. "What is it, love?"

"It's just my back, nothing to worry about," she reassures, smiling through gritted teeth, but the crease between his brows doesn't deflate.

He's exhausted, she knows he is, and he looks as much; the lack of color in his cheeks highlighting the dark rings under his eyes and the lines that life has drawn on his face too soon. The last thing she wants is to add more weight to his worries.

"Sweetheart," he breathes out, circling her waist with his arm and letting her rest most of her weight against him. "You need rest, both of you."

"And so do you," Bobbi snaps, eyes stinging with unshed tears, and she hates herself for raising her voice but it kills her to know that even beaten and bruised and bloodied, he would set himself on fire to keep her warm.

Without a word, Lance reaches his hand out and switches off the coffee machine. "Coffee can wait," he says firmly, tucking a flyway strand of hair behind Bobbi's ear and staring straight into her eyes to emphasize his words. Bobbi lets out a breath she didn't even know she was holding and nods.

He stretches out an arm to grab a chair from under the kitchen table and Bobbi snorts. "This is embarrassing."

"Sit," he orders as he places it down beside her and Bobbi mumbles something but doesn't need to be asked twice — her back does hurt like a bitch.

Lance kneels in front of her and lifts one of her legs, the sole of her foot resting on his pectoral, as he slides his fingers under the elastic of her sock and rubs her ankle. Bobbi heaves a sigh, deep and loud, as she passes a hand over her stomach, and Lance grins proudly. 

"C'mere," she says as she curls her fingers around the fabric of his hoodie and tugs him up for a kiss. She jumps slightly when she feels a sudden jab within her middle and _growls_ as she stares down at her stomach.

"It's getting a little tight in there," Lance says, mimicking the look of discomfort on her face empathetically, as he flattens his hand on her belly.

"Well, she's going to have to be a little more patient."

"Six weeks," Lance breathes out in awe, gazing at her stomach adoringly.

Soon, they will bring home a tiny human being, half him, half her, completely made out of love, and they've never been more terrified and excited before.

"Six weeks."

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading this far! don't hesitate to come say hi or ask me questions<3


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